Dirty Beak
by Irrepressable
Summary: The Doctor has to deal with the foul vocabulary of another parrot, only this time, it is mostly not his fault. Either way, he learns to not leave a parrot unsupervised in front of a television. Sequel to A Little Birdie Told Me. Rated M for filthy, filthy language.


**This is what happens when I run out of things to write and am up late at night. My cousin, ForgottenGrimoire, is partly to blame for this particular abomination. He approves of Twelve being trolled by a parrot. How can it possibly be worse than last time? Well, you'll have to read to find out.**

The Doctor really, really didn't like parrots. He had sworn that he would never rescue a parrot again, but here he was, stuck with one of the infernal creatures onboard the TARDIS. This one, like the last one, was of great importance to certain people. He didn't particularly care for those people, but preventing them from getting into a stupid war that would end up wiping out an entire civilization was definitely important. So, here he was, stuck with a parrot once more. This time, Clara wasn't there. She was at her home. The Doctor didn't know how he would keep his sanity this time around. Last time he dealt with a parrot, he ended up with a death sentance on Thurvilgia. The parrot's antics had also led to him getting a mild concussion from repeatedly hitting his head on the bottom of the console. No, this time, he would not leave a bored parrot to its own devices. A bored parrot would no doubt find a way to make the Doctor miserable. No, he decided, this time he would find a way to keep the bird entertained. A plan began to form in the Doctor's mind. It may not have been an amazing plan, but it was a good enough plan to keep the bird entertained.

The Doctor moved the bird to the entertainment room. The Time Lord then switched on the screen and set the remote down next to the bird. "This gets nearly every channel out there." the Doctor informed the parrot. "Keep yourself entertained and, for the love of all things not stupid, don't harrass me while I'm working!"

With that, the Doctor left to do repairs on various locations in the TARDIS. The parrot turned its attention to the screen and began to watch. It was a documentary on the rise and fall of children's educational entertainment on some planet or another. The parrot cocked its head and stepped on the remote. It changed the station to an alien legal procedural drama. The parrot then changed the station again. It was a shopping channel. The parrot clicked the correct sequence of buttons, ordering a lacy red negligee set using the Doctor's credits. The parrot was oblivious as to its function, just as it was oblivious to the fact that it would cause awkwardness if Clara were to ever find it on the TARDIS. The parrot was especially oblivious to the fact that the negligee it had ordered was _exactly Clara's size_. There would be much awkwardness once the package was delivered and if the Doctor left it unattended.

Having grown bored with the shopping network, the parrot changed stations again. A cooking show on how to prepare beer can octopus. The parrot was oblivious as to how disgusting that sounded. Still, it kept the parrot entertained. When it arrived on a music channel, the parrot begain singing loudly. The Doctor swore loudly from nearby. The parrot repeated the swear. The Doctor groaned, "Not this again!"

The parrot said nothing more, so the Time Lord moved on, leaving the bird alone with the screen. The parrot continued to watch the music channel until, finally it switched the channel again. This time, it was some alien televangelist offering salvation in exchange for money. "Boo!" the parrot shouted before changing the channel once more.

Next to go was an alien soap opera. Just as things were getting dramatic, the parrot changed the channel, forever denying him the knowledge of who Flurna's baby's father was. The bird flipped through the stations, flitting from program to program. One of the buttons of the remote got stuck. The station that it was stuck on was a pornography channel. For the next six hours, the parrot absorbed every lurid detail. The Doctor was completely unaware of this, having been preoccupied with his repairs. The parrot stomped on the remote again, getting the button unstuck and changing the channel once more. It was on another documentary.

The Doctor was very pleased that his repairs had gone so peacefully. Of course, he was suspicious. He had to check on the parrot. Finishing his repairs on one particular spot, the Doctor set down his high-tech spanner and left to find the parrot. When he arrived at the room where he had left the parrot, he was relieved to see that everything was in order. The parrot was quietly watching the screen. He should have tried it the first time. The parrot turned and looked at the Doctor. The Doctor looked at the parrot. "You've been quiet." the Doctor said. "It's almost suspicious."

The parrot chirped quizzically. The Doctor turned around to leave. Just as he was halfway out the door, he heard a voice speak up from behind him. "Oh, Tony! Give it to me up the ass!"

The Doctor froze. Slowly, he turned around. The parrot once again uttered filthily, "Do you like it when I fuck your ass?"

The Doctor uses Attack Eyebrows. It's not very effective. "You _had_ to find one of those stations." the Time Lord growled.

"Fuck me!" the parrot shrieked.

"This may be worse than the last time I had to deal with a parrot." the Doctor grumbled.

"Suck me- and I'd better not feel any teeth!" the parrot called out.

"This is _definitely_ worse than the last time." the Doctor sighed.

The parrot started making a series of very erotic sounds. The Doctor let out a sigh and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He walked over to the console room, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. The dial tone went on briefly before he got an answer. "Hello?"

"Clara, do you remember where you put the rope on the TARDIS?" the Doctor asked

"Yes." Clara replied before asking, "Why?"

"Because I'm going to hang myself." the Doctor said flatly

"Doctor, you're not going to hang yourself." Clara said. The Doctor could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Is the parrot swearing?"

"It's worse than that." the Doctor replied. "Far, far worse."

"You're being melodramatic." Clara insisted. "You'll be fine."

With that, Clara hung up. The Doctor was filled with dread. Very soon, he would have to bring the parrot to the peace meetings. He did not look forward to that. Before long, the TARDIS arrived at the location. The Doctor let out a sigh and retrieved the parrot. He looked at the bird perched on his arm and said, "Keep your beak shut and don't poo on me."

The bird was quiet, much quieter than the previous parrot had been. He made his way through the building, being allowed by the guards to pass. Finally, he arrived at the room with the peace meeting. There was a table with two different alien races sitting on each side of the table. In the center of the table, there was a perch for the parrot. The Doctor moved the parrot over to its perch. One of the aliens, a green-skinned, insectoid-eyed male, stood up and said, "I have arranged for this gift to be brought for you, Irvol of Nimv, in the name of peace."

Another alien, a brown-skinned alien with insectoid eyes, stood up and said, "I accept your gift of peace, Irvol of Fnor. If I may ask, what does it do?"

"I believe that it sings." the Irvol of Nimv said. "It may talk."

"Fuck me!" the bird shrieked. "Fuck my ass!"

The room was silent for a moment. A long, long moment. Finally, the slience was broken by a chuckle from the Irvol of Fnor. That chuckle grew into a laugh. Before long, the brown-skinned alien was roaring with laughter. He eventually did have to stop to catch his breath. "A bird that has been taught filthy words." the Irvol of Fnor chuckled. "I'll give my mother-in-law the fits. I really like this gift."

"So is it safe to say that we are to become allies?" the Irvol of Nimv questioned

"Allies indeed." the Irvol of Fnor said. "This alliance will be beneficial for both of our economies."

Crisis averted. There would be no civilization-destroying war. Quietly, the Doctor slipped away, grateful to be away from the parrot. He really, _really_ didn't like parrots. Just as the Doctor was about to return do the TARDIS, a young man of the Irvol of Nimv's species approached him with a package. "Package for you." the young man said.

The Doctor whipped out his sonic shades and scanned the package. Nothing harmful inside. He didn't recall ordering anything from the shopping channel whose logo was on the package. Maybe Clara had ordered it. She had ordered things before. She usually asked him first, though. The Doctor accepted the box and continued on his way. When he was onboard the TARDIS, he set the package by the door and went up to the console. He set the time and date for a Wednesday.

A short time later, he was joined by Clara. She quickly noticed the package by the door. "Doctor, you have a package." Clara pointed out.

"It's for you." the Doctor said, looking away to do something important.

Clara glanced at the Time Lord before returning her attention to the box. She began to open it. Once it was opened, what she discovered shocked her. She was silent for a minute. She attempted to say something, but nothing came out. She couldn't recall her face being redder. Finally, Clara lifted the contents from the box and said, her voice wavering, "Doctor? Care to explain this?"

The Doctor turned around to see Clara holding a sheer red babydoll top with padded cups and a matching red g-string. It looked to be exactly Clara's size. The Doctor's face heated up as well. "This isn't what it looks like." the Time Lord said hastily.

"It looks like negligee with a g-string." Clara said, trying to look anywhere but at the Doctor's face.

"Oh." the Doctor replied. "Well, in that particular instance, it's _exactly_ what it looks like."

"You ordered negligee for me." the embarrassed Clara asked. "Why did you order negligee for me? Mister high and mighty I'm-not-your-boyfriend Time Lord is not the type to want to see Clara Oswald in negligee."

"Of course not." the Doctor said hastily. "I don't want to see you in anything in particular."

Well, that had sounded a lot better in his head. Nope. No naked Clara. No Clara in that nearly see-through number with that riddiculously tiny _thing_ covering her genitals. Nope. Not sexy. Not sexy at all. "That is, I don't really care what you wear." the Doctor covered his behind, figuratively speaking.

Good save, he thought. "Right." Clara said, her face still red. "But why did you order it?"

"I thought you ordered it." the Doctor stated, a quizzical expression on his face.

"I didn't order it." Clara said. "If I didn't order it and you didn't order it, then who did?"

Suddenly, it hit the Doctor. His eyes narrowed, his aggressive eyebrows furrowing. "The parrot." he hissed.

"Doctor, you can't possibly blame a parrot for this!" Clara groaned. "Look, let's think about this later. Let's just go on an adventure."

"Good idea." the Doctor replied, heading over to the controls to input a destination.

So they went off on another adventure, which didn't go as well as they had hoped. This was probably because the Doctor was absolutely _not_ visualizing Clara in the sheer babydoll top and g-string the entire time. He wasn't thinking about it. Nope. Not at all. In a brief break from _not_ visualizing Clara in that red negligee, the Doctor once again promised himself that he would never again work with parrots. Then he went back to _not_ visualizing his companion in that scandalous ensemble.

 **Doctor, you dirty old man. We all love you. I hadn't originally intended it to end this way, but that was the direction the story wanted to go in. It happens sometimes. It's best to just go with the flow of a story sometimes. I can't say I regret it.**


End file.
